by M A Scrawl
"Tundra," Withers growled, recognizing the man and the horrible torments he had caused. Tundra smirked, a demonic smile on his face. That smile was not one of joy, but one rather of horrible torment, either of one he was experiencing, or one he was to inflict. That smile was barely human.
"Yes, that would be my name," Tundra said, standing back as Withers got up and brushed his suit.
Then Withers was forced into the worst walk of his life. He was held with the barrel of a gun touching his back at all times, forced to walk in sync with Tundra who walked eagerly ahead. Caheel had been ordered to block off all halls from them, but to leave a single pathway connecting the Control Deck, the Overseers’ Office, and the Detainment Cells.
Tundra had already sent a few soldiers to overtake the Control Deck and force everyone to stop all communication to Earth. They couldn't expect some word to reach out that Facility C had been put in lockdown, but Tundra did want to forestall that.
Tundra led on, whacking Withers with a baton when he felt the need to, grinning like a child at a candy store. Withers recognized Caheel within the Mercenaries behind him, and felt limp at the thought of one of the S.S.S. betraying Facility C.
Withers had read up on Tundra, and knew at least a little about him. Had he been this unstable before Saharas’ interactions with him, or had he always been like this?
Withers was jolted along, Kirby beside him, looking at him nervously. Tundra was only focusing on Withers, not on Kirby, who stood with her hands clasped nervously, looking anxiously at Withers bruised face.
They walked farther, Withers getting beaten on the back even more as they apparently reaching their destination. Withers grunted as Tundra whacked him in the back harder than usual, and he stumbled through a doorway, tripping.
Expecting a blow to the back for falling, he tensed up. Surprisingly, no blow came, but the mercenaries did pick him up roughly, shoving him farther.
The room they entered seemed familiar, with large glass doors that had rooms inside. Where-
Withers saw the clones in the detainment cell to his left through the clear glass. His eyes widened as he saw Katy jump up, recognizing Withers and probably wondering why he had bruises on his face.
Tundra followed Withers steps and got into the view of the children. By now they had seen the barrels of the guns pointed at his back, and had some semblance of what was going on. Tundra looked to his left, glancing at the occupants of the detainment cell. He took a moment to examine them, then grinned, that demonic smile spread across his face again.
The clones faces wore surprise, and Quentin banged on the glass, wondering what was happening. Caheel walked over and punched a command into the keypad, smiling as the clones’ eyes widened. Kadir blazed with electricity, running towards the door and focusing all the energy on it, obviously wanting to get out. A hissing sound went through that room, audible even from outside of it.
The lightning on his skin started lessening for some reason, his movements becoming slower. The electricity left only a slight mark on the glass door, a black area where it had touched. So much for superpowers.
Kadir shouted, yelling as he tried to fight against the gas-sedation. The electricity ceased completely, Kadir staggering to keep his balance. He leaned against one of the beds, then collapsed against it.
Tundra laughed, ordering his men to go inside it once it opened. He turned, gesturing to a few of his men to follow him. Withers also followed him, being forced by gunpoint, the cold steel of the gun at his back.
Caheel opened another cell for his newfound 'master,' and stood back, grinning as Withers was abruptly pushed into the cell, tripping him. Kirby followed, kneeling over Withers and trying to examine his pain.
"You shouldn't have gotten this job," chuckled Tundra as they were pushed into the cell, the door not yet closed. "I really do regret that you aren't Sahara, I SO much would've liked to see him again."
"You created the clones?" asked Withers, grunting as he slowly raised onto his feet. Tundra smiled contentedly, looking to the side to examine the dead-to-the-world clones that were being carried by the men. Quentin had to be carried on a trolly.
"Yes, I did, using the technology from that Alien ship," Tundra spoke, stressing the 'alien.' "I used the core genetics from my D.N.A.-so I guess I could say I'm their father." Tundra grinned. "They really are quite valuable, at least once we change their brain chemistry a bit."
Withers scowled. "Brain alteration," he said with disdain. "You really have stooped low."
Tundra slammed his hand against the window, rage portrayed on his face.
"Sahara did this!" he screamed, his voice ringing into Withers’ ears. "I was protecting myself!"
Tundra took deep breaths, glaring with animal fury at Withers. A mercenary turned and whispered in his ear. Tundra nodded at him, waving him away. "It doesn't matter," Tundra said, dangerous calm overcoming his voice. "You'll be dead within 10 minutes after the bomb goes off." Tundra grinned. "And you'll be stuck here helpless as it blows up."
Tundra cocked his head thoughtfully. “But, just to get the message across,” he leveled the pistol at Withers chest and fired.
“NO!” Kirby screamed as Withers collapsed to the floor, not making a sound. Tundra smiled wickedly and closed the cell door, trapping the dying Withers and Kirby inside.
“Sahara will join you soon,” Tundra said, speaking into a microphone on the wall. “As soon as I find him, I will kill him.”
Tundra continued smiling and dropped the mic, not even bothering to position it back on its stand on the wall. He turned, leaving Withers and Kirby to their fate, carrying the clones to their fate as well.
-Chapter 35-
-Dead Men-
Kirby sat, crying softly over Withers body. He lay completely still, his eyes closed. He coughed, and Kirby looked up, surprised. He turned his head, and smiled sickly at her. “Hello Kirby,” he said softly, then groaned. He turned to his side, intending to get up.
“No,” Kirby stated, sniffing. “You shouldn’t be walking, or moving…” She paused as she looked at his chest where the bullet had hit him. No blood.
Withers pulled away his suit and vest to reveal a second black vest underneath. But this one looked familiar…
“Bulletproof vest,” Kirby said in wonder. Withers nodded, breathing hard.
“I wear one just in case of an emergency.” Withers grimaced, hand to his chest. “Cracked a rib though. I won’t be able to move.” Kirby sighed in relief and stood back, realizing she had been holding his head.
“Kirby, this is very important.” Kirby's eyes came back to Withers clear blue ones. “This vest won’t protect me if a bomb blows up. I need you to go find it, or release the S.S.S.”
He pulled a black pistol out of his suit, and handed it to a nervous Kirby. She hesitated, then took it. “How will we get out?” she asked, looking at the glass door.
In answer, Withers got to his feet very slowly, holding Kirby to steady himself. He walked over to the bathroom, surprisingly, and reached behind the toilet.
“Whats this?” Kirby asked, gesturing towards the panel and wiping her eyes.
“Something for emergencies.”
A short beep sounded and a panel popped up on the front of the toilet, emerging from invisibility to the panel. Withers sighed, relaxing, and brought his hand back, punching several numbers into the panel, along with a voice command and retinal scan.
“I am the only one who knows about them, and the only one who can open them. A convenient place that no one will look for an escape route.”
Withers sighed, collapsing next to the toilet. “Go, I should be safe here. Although I wish I could say the same for you.”
Kirby nodded, and went out of the bathroom, seeing that the glass door had slid back and was open.
She moved from her spot, pointing the pistol down the hall, making sure it was clear of anyone. She pulled out another addition to her weaponry, a muffler that she slowly added to the tip of the p
istol. Withers had apparently also had one of those in the folds of his suit.
She finished screwing it on, and checked the next hallway, walking through it with the pistol raised. The first problem would be accessing the glass-doors. Against what Caheel might think, it actually only took about fifteen minutes in order for the Overseer to be able to open the doors. The 'two hour' lie had been fabricated by the government for some purpose that only they knew. Along with that, she also had access to open the doors, not just Withers.
She would get in contact with the S.S.S. Captain and take him to the resource bay, hopefully catching up with Tundra and his men.
This would be a very inconvenient place and time to die, Kirby thought, continuing down the halls, gun raised. If I die here, no one will know about it, and no one will care…
As Kirby navigated the halls, her mind started wandering to a forbidden part of her mind. A part that she had closed herself off to for a long time. Her husband…
Few people knew she had been married, but then again, Kirby had very few friends.
He had died in a car crash.
The memories flashed in her brain, sequencing with distinct detail.
He had been driving, Kirby in the front next to him, and her mother in the back.
A drunk, crashing into the car.
Her husband, able to speak to her, but trapped between two pieces of metal. The car, burning, going to burn. Her husband's words, insisting she save her mother and leave him..... Leave him…
Then it had exploded.
Kirby found herself crying, the memories flooding into her mind. She had blocked off the emotions, but they came bursting out. Why? Why now?
No, she thought firmly. I can't be distracted now.
Yet the thoughts stayed in her mind, showing her that although she lived a life of success and wealth, it didn't mean anything now that he was gone.
-----
Kirby managed to get through one of the barrier-walls and convince an S.S.S. officer that she was not a mercenary. She took the entirety of the S.S. Soldiers that he could find, each donning their bullet gear instead of the tranquilizer guns, real pistols and rifles on their person.
They followed Kirby in squads, her at the middle where he could best be protected. They approached the Resource Drop Bay, and heard Tundras’ shoutings. He apparently wanted them to hurry up and load up all of the alien equipment he had lost before the bomb went off.
Earlier, Kirby had sent a squad of bomb specialists to go find and defuse the bomb before it blew up, per Withers instructions. Apparently they had a hint as to where the most vulnerable spot was in Facility C, or the best place to put a bomb. She hoped they found and defused it soon, or everyone on Facility C would be gone, thrown out into the vacuum of space.
The S.S. Soldiers nodded to each other, and a man pulled a pin on a Flash Grenade, throwing it out into the middle of the room. "Grenade!" yelled the man who threw it, and almost every mercenary eye in that room turned to it, just as it blew up.
A bright flash exploded in the room. A few men had thrown themselves to the ground by instinct, and they were quickly recovering, but others were dazed, blinded by the sheer brightness of the grenade.
Then, the soldiers entered, shooting their guns at the men. Tundra cursed, one of the few who had looked away. He waved towards the mercenaries carrying his equipment, and they rushed into the shuttle airlock.
Then it closed, leaving some 15 mercenaries at the mercy of the soldiers.
-----
Tundra sighed, leaning against the wall as he buckled himself in. That had been close. He dropped his rifle, his hands sweaty. He chuckled at how nervous he was, he was safe now, the clones now tucked where they couldn't escape. They weren't in cryo-pods, but were just sedated, strapped against the wall, unconscious.
Tundra smiled, closing his eyes.
Then he opened them to see every eye in the room turned onto him. He scowled. "What?" he said, condescension dripping from his words. "You’re still getting paid."
"You just left our men back there, left to be murdered, or worse," one of the men said, a rifle in his hand. Unfortunately, he looked as though he knew how to use it.
"They were dead men anyway," Tundra sneered, crossing his arms and closing his eyes again. They couldn't hurt him, his brother was their leader. Chris had told them not to hurt him, right?
"On of those 'deadmen' was my brother," the same man said, moving. Opening his eyes, Tundra saw he was holding a knife in his hand, his body stature showing he itched to use it. Tundra seriously did not understand this man's obsession with his 'brother.' Chris was Tundras’ brother but that didn't mean he had any feelings towards him, in fact he hated him. He would sooner betray his brother if it meant good for Tundra than complete a favor for him.
"You can hurt me," taunted Tundra, although he wasn't exactly sure he couldn't, "My brother will kill you if anything happens to me."
The man's hand quivered, the blade shaking. That seemed to stop him. These men were like Tundra, doing anything to only protect themselves, throwing anything away for their own self-purpose. That was why they were mercenaries and terrorists. He may have had a brother, but he was still like Tundra. He wouldn’t risk his own life for any kind of ‘honor’ for his sibling.
Tundra grinned, pleased with himself that he had talked his way out of this scuffle. He closed his eyes again, smiling. The screams of the ones he had betrayed five years ago was now coupled with the moans and cries of the ones he had abandoned five minutes ago.
-----
Back on Facility C, Kirby wiped the sweat from her brow, relieved that everything was over. The remaining mercenaries had been cared for in the Sick Bay and were then placed in the detainment cells.
They had won the assault with only a few men that had minor wounds. Withers had been taken care of, pampered by Sick Bay because of the bruises on his back and sides, as well as the broken rib. Taking off his suit to examine the bruises, Sick Bay had been surprised to note that he was in excellent physical condition, muscles toned well to his form. Apparently he hoped to keep his physicality a secret by wearing baggy suits that mocked being overweight.
Word had also gone around that Kirby had military experience. She didn’t, of course, but she had taken several classes on gun safety, as well as learning how to shoot accurately.
The squad had found and safely defused the bomb that Tundra had planted inside Facility C without any problem. It was a simple bomb really, but it was placed at a spot where it could do the most damage. The one bomb could've killed a lot of people in Facility C.
Of course there was the problem with the clones. Tundra had escaped again. They couldn't track him, because Tundra had made the Control Deck shut down everything going on, including the tracking system. That meant it would take a while to reboot, the system reconfiguring the satellite and data between Earth.
Kirby felt responsible for the children. She'd already sent a warning out to the U.S. that Tundra was out again, but she also had no idea where he was. He had taken all of their equipment, the superpowered clones, as well as almost destroyed Facility C. Then there was the problem with Caheel. The man had inside Tundra into Facility C, Tundra having contacted him somehow without tripping the warnings in the computer.
Caheel had betrayed Facility C, choosing a life of war and death over remaining in Facility C. What kind of offer had Tundra made to him? Money? A part in the terrorist cell?
Kirby felt it didn't matter.
The clones were gone now, sealed to whatever fate Tundra chose them. Unless they could get them back. The observation system would be back on in only a few hours, and then they could try and find them.
Kirby also wasn't sure what to think about Tundra. The man had obviously been close to insane. It may have just been the extended period of time in a terrorist cell working on him. She knew the man's story, he'd been a brilliant geneticist who had gotten fired after he'd attacked a man.
Sahara had fired him.
Now Tundra hated that man more than anything else, it seemed.
-----
Withers grunted, exited the Control Deck, holding his side as he lifted himself up from the chair he was sitting in. He walked over to the Sick Bay, counting the men lying there with wounds. Very few, and only minor wounds. A few of the mercenaries lay restrained to the tables, their wounds being seen to. Tundra had left these men without hesitation, abandoning them to prison.
Why would he do that? Did Tundra really care that little about other people's lives now?
Withers sighed. He knew nothing of what Tundra had been doing. That terrorist cell still existed, and it was growing larger every day.
He got up off the seat he had been in, the bandages around him stretching slightly. His entire body ached in protest as he walked around, forcing himself to exercise. Kirby was off to the side, talking to one of the nurses, nervously checking her work-pad, probably getting a ton of notifications from Earth, asking what was happening on Facility C.
Withers started wondering what was happening to the clones with Tundra, and what he would do with them. Withers was doing his best to find them, but at the same time there wasn't much to do. Where were they?
-Chapter 36-
-Complications-
Tundra gritted his teeth as the shuttle landed, nausea overcoming him. He almost hurled inside the shuttle, but managed to keep his insides inside him.
He strolled out of the Shuttle, glad to be back on solid ground again. He leaned against the shuttle outside as the men started carrying out the children. Next to the shuttle, a few black vans stood, waiting for the clones to be loaded, along with all the equipment. Tundra smiled contentedly as the men glared at him, blaming him for the left-behind ones in Facility C.